


until morning comes

by lionsenpai



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, horns are handlebars thats literally all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2204028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsenpai/pseuds/lionsenpai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which inquisitor adaar and sera do not appreciate the scenery of the mountains at all</p>
            </blockquote>





	until morning comes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yollm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yollm/gifts).



Sera shudders as Herah pulls up her favorite tunic, her skin prickling against the cool mountain air. They’re in the Frostback Mountains looking for something about Andraste—it’s _always_ about Andraste—but from the way she’s being ripped out of her clothes, she wonders if some shem god is really what the Inquisitor’s after. 

"Oi, watch it with that," she bites, dragging her nails over the expanse of her shoulders. Herah winces and dives in against Sera’s neck, horns nearly knocking her on the brow, and bites hard enough for Sera to feel it down in her gut. She smirks and runs her hands up the back of her neck, through her short, silver hair. "That’s my favorite tunic."

"I’ll buy you a new one," Herah says against her skin, pressing her thumbs into the jut of Sera’s hips. 

"Oh no you won’t," Sera protests, doing her best not to squirm away from the touch. She runs her nails over Herah’s scalp, pulling her hair when she thumbs her hips again. "I don’t want no fancy  _Ferelden_ scruff. Can’t buy the stains or the sleeves on tha _—ahh.”_

Herah dips her fingers between Sera’s legs for just a moment, pressing against the leather of her pants before bringing her hands up to circle her breasts, giving them a squeeze. 

"You keep complaining, and I’ll leave you here with your favorite tunic," she says, raising her head to press her lips to Sera’s, teeth nipping at her lower lip. 

Sera shivers, rocking her hips up against the Inquisitor’s. “At least I’d be warm,” she says, more to be petty than anything. A bedroll is one thing, but a gorgeous woman above her is entirely another.

Herah makes a face, and then slides her hands down to Sera’s waist where they grow warm with magic. She kneads them against Sera’s hips, and Sera squirms beneath her, pulling at the Inquisitor’s hair. Herah drags her hands up her sides and back to her breasts, tugging at her nipples and then cupping the flesh with heated hands. 

"Warm enough now, love?" Herah asks, kissing the jut of her collarbone. 

"You’re a tit, you know," Sera breathes. "There’s some more of me that could use those hands."

Herah grins, pulling her hands back to her hips again. She slips one between her thighs, fingering the seam, and Sera jolts, all the air leaving her at once. 

"Here?" Herah asks.

"Aye," Sera agrees, her voice trembling. 

"Can’t be that cold. You’re still wearing your favorite pants."

"Aye. A shame too. Fix it," Sera says, lifting her hips. 

Herah doesn’t respond, just dips her head and kisses Sera’s stomach, her fingers pulling at the hem of her pants. Sera bites her lip and tugs at Herah’s hair as the cold mountain air greets her inner thighs. Her Inquisitor is quick to run her hands across them, drawing patterns of heat along her skin right up to the cloth of her drawers, her hand hard and hot against them. It’s just enough so Sera can’t help the whimper in the back of her throat, but Herah isn’t giving her much more than that, so she rock her hips against the finger, searching for the pressure she needs.

"You gonna fuck me or keep playing?” Sera snaps, pulling on her horns and clenching her legs around the Inquisitor’s waist when she still won’t give her more.

“Well, if you put it  _that_  way.”

She pulls down her knickers and licks her way down the plane of Sera’s stomach, stopping only when she gets to the curls of blonde hair. She kisses her clit, quick and fleeting, and Sera exhales all of her frustration in one, single breath.

Herah hears her, her laughter hot against Sera’s flesh, and she leans in, tasting the wetness that’s collected, her fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, hot and insistent. It’s enough to have Sera reaching for horns instead of hair, gripping them tightly as her chest balloons, her legs twitching.

Herah licks up to her clit, playing her tongue across it in quick circles, and when Sera starts to huff, she pushes two fingers in her, easy as you please.  _That_  has her hips jumping, matching the hard thrusts eagerly, her soft sighs stretching into moans as Herah works her tongue against her clit.

Sera pulls her close by the horns, so much she must be struggling down there, but Sera doesn’t care a lick because she’s shuddering and shaking and sighing, and there’s just a little more until she  _breaks,_  and when Herah crooks her fingers just so and digs her nails into her hip to keep her steady, Sera comes with a sudden yelp of her name, back arching clear off the furs, toes curled. She’s seeing spots, and her orgasm hums through her from her head to her toes until it’s just between her legs, rumbling against her skin.

She blinks and realizes Herah is laughing—that or choking from how hard she pulling her into her, her hands white knuckled on her horns.

Sera lets her go, nearly pushing her away as she closes her eyes and basks in the comfortable buzz, and Herah keeps laughing, shuffling closer to lie beside her. Sera cracks an eye open in time to see her lick her lips with that fantastic little tongue, eyes glazed.

“Got the urge to bury me there, did you?” Herah asks, but her eyes slide down along Sera’s body, slick with sweat and near glowing.

“Might as well,” Sera huffs. “You’re not half so bad when you’re being put to work.”

Herah laughs quietly, moving in to press a kiss to Sera’s shoulder.

“Unbearable the rest of the time, am I?” she asks, skimming her fingers along her forearm. They’re still warm.

Sera hums, propping herself up on her elbow and turning to face the Inquisitor completely, her grin absolutely lupine. She finds the buckle of Herah’s belt and fingers it, pulling them close together. Herah’s lips are soft as ever, but she can taste herself there, and she plays her fingers along the Inquisitor’s hips.

“Always,” Sera tells her. “But I like you well enough anyway.”


End file.
